Noelle felt like she was about two seconds from throwing up. The bodice of her dress suddenly felt too tight, the skirts too heavy, and her legs too leaden to comfortably trudge through the snow on their way to the porch. Carol was in Nicholas’ arms, her husband—husband—seemingly taking this stroll easier than she was, even though she could see his nerves in the way he protectively clutched at Carol. His body was angled in a way that shielded Carol from Beatrice, as if he was subconsciously keeping the girl from her reach. Noelle’s breathing was ragged as she tried desperately to calm herself.
Her heart was breaking with every step they came closer to the porch, her stomach twisting and turning, her throat becoming dry as a desert, her tongue thick and tingling. Her hands shook as she clutched at her dress skirts, pins and needles making their way through her body. Noelle had no idea how she would handle this situation, and how she would even be able to talk around her heart that was now beating in her throat.
“Good day, Sister Beatrice,” Nicholas greeted cheerily. Noelle supposed it was for Carol’s sake, the little girl still not aware of what had transpired last night, or what was potentially about to happen. She had thought about telling her, but how did you tell a little girl you were about to lose her because of lies?
How would she be able to make her understand that it wasn’t that she didn’t want her, that it wasn’t because she was giving her back to the orphanage. But that it was because of other reasons, beyond her current mental capacity, and beyond her understanding. Not to mention how she would tell Carol that she and Nicholas had married, and that they hadn’t been married all the times he’d done things with them, made memories with them, spent the night.
It was when Noelle had had that thought that she’d realized that Sister Beatrice had been right, that they’d only confused the girl and that she’d be given the impression that the way Noelle and Nicholas were doing things was right. And it wasn’t, no matter how she tried to justify it. Their faith had taught them enough for them to know that they were wrong.
Of course, Noelle had mused that they were only human, that they were prone to sin no matter what. But almost immediately she felt shame and guilt about those thoughts. While it had never been her intention to teach Carol the wrong things or to set a poor example, and while her heart had been in the right place and she was still a good person, that didn’t make things right. Not by a long shot. Noelle had always been a woman of faith, sometimes so much so that it had annoyed Henry in some cases. But now, she felt like she was a fraud, like she had no business asking for help from God when she’d disgraced Him.
“Good day Mr. Birch, Mrs. Foster.” Beatrice said, her nose scrunched in displeasure, but her tone civil. Nicholas cleared his throat, set Carol down on the porch, and opened the door for her to go in. The little girl hugged the Sister first, beaming up at her.
“Why don’t you go inside for a moment, honeybee.” Nicholas said, “We’ll be right there.”
When their daughter had entered the warm cocoon of their home, Nicholas turned to Beatrice and said unceremoniously,
“It’s actually Mrs. Birch now.”
Beatrice frowned, her gaze returning to his from where it had lingered on Carol’s exiting frame.
“Pardon?”
Noelle cleared her throat, steeling her spine and her resolve. “I’m no longer Noelle Foster. I’m Noelle Birch, now.”
The Sister’s gaze passed between the two of them, lingering for a moment on their intertwined hands and the golden band winking in the light on Noelle’s left hand.
“Why am I only being made aware of this now?” Sister Beatrice asked, a softer tone to her voice than before. But while it might seem like they had a chance, Noelle knew she was about to blow her casket when they revealed why.
“Because we got married last night.” Nicholas said, his voice not wavering, and his chest puffed out in pride. Noelle marveled at him, her eyes glued to his face, the jaw set in stubbornness. He was proud to be her husband, proud to announce it to the world, and those that stood posed to break theirs.
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed, her face pulling into a look of such pure disgust, Noelle felt lower than the horse dung that stained the bottom of their soles. The woman was angry, her face flushed with red, and her hands balled at her sides. She took a step forward, the softness in her voice honed into nothing but hard steel,
“Please explain yourselves so that I might not jump to conclusions.”
Noelle took the Sister’s hand before she could react, squeezing it gently. The woman looked down at their hands, her features softening somewhat at whatever was projected in Noelle’s face at that moment. Perhaps desperation, sadness, hopelessness. Whatever she felt was displayed there, as she could never hide her feelings.
“Sister Beatrice, may we speak as friends?” Noelle asked, voice bordering on begging. “Not as an orphanage overseer and an adoptee, but two women who want the best for Carol—no matter what that may be.”
The Sister was quiet, so was Nicholas, so Noelle continued, “We were married last night in front of a Pastor, in a church, as tradition requires. We are a good Christian family, one that will look after Carol and love her, and see to it that she has everything she’ll ever need and more. We love Carol, Sister Beatrice, more than we even love ourselves, and we cherish her above all else—and will continue to do so until our last dying breaths.”
Something turned Beatrice’s face back into a scowl. “Mrs. Foster, you cannot claim to be a good Christian family when you have only married in order to convince me to let Carol stay. That is not love, and it is not honest—it is a blatant disregard to the sanctity of marriage.”
Nicholas stepped forward then, a wall of muscle and strength behind her. He looked down at Beatrice, visibly angry at the Sister.
“Forgive my rudeness, Sister Beatrice. But you are wrong—about all of it.” The woman opened her mouth, but Nicholas continued, much to Noelle’s dismay. If he angered her now, they could lose Carol just out of her spite. “I love Carol, and I love Noelle—deeply. I did not marry this woman as a ploy to get you to leave Carol with us. I have loved Noelle since the first time I laid eyes on her, even though I didn’t know it back then. And every moment spent with her and Carol, with my family has only strengthened that love. You cannot take our daughter away from us, not when we’re happy and Carol loved.”
Beatrice only scowled, his words falling on deaf ears, but not Noelle’s. She looked up at him, wonder and awe and devotion making a knot appear in her throat. Her eyes burned, vision becoming blurry as she realized what he said, what he proclaimed as if it was the easiest thing he’d said in years. The words had rolled off his tongue like honey, the warmth of his proclaimed love wrapping around her shattered heart and keeping the pieces together. The moment was short-lived.
Sister Beatrice ripped her cold hand from Noelle’s, taking a step away from them, as if their sins could rub off on her. As if they were disease-ridden and not two parents desperately trying to keep their daughter at home with them. Noelle felt rejection wrap around her like a snowstorm, pushing the air from her lungs, jabbing its rotten, icy finger into her heart. She knew, without Beatrice having to utter the words, she knew what she’d decided.
“Please,” Noelle whispered, dropping Nicholas’ hand—that she’d not even realized she’d held—and stepped forward. She reached for Beatrice. “Can I please say goodbye first.”
Nicholas started, but shut his mouth when Noelle stepped forward. “Please let me say goodbye to her. I can’t bear the thought of her thinking I don’t want her anymore.”
Sister Beatrice’s eyes widened, but her face shuttered again only a moment later. She nodded, a snap of her head that had Noelle dashing off.
She found Carol in her room, playing with her dolls as if there was nothing wrong or out of place on this day. And Noelle supposed there wasn’t, not in her world. She crouched beside her daughter, her beautiful, wonderful daughter, and smoothed blonde wisps of hair from her little face. Carol giggled at the little tickles it caused, trapping Noelle’s hand between her cheek and shoulder.
“Honeybee,” Noelle started softly, as if Carol was a startled animal two seconds away from bolting, never to be seen again. “I have to talk to you about something. Do you think you can stop playing for just a moment?”
Her daughter looked up from her dolls, immediately attentive, and then concerned when she spotted the stream of tears wetting Noelle’s cheeks.
“What’s wrong, mama?”
Noelle swallowed the surge of emotion, the burning in her throat twin to the ache in her heart. Splinters of sorrow pierced her ribcage, almost making her back bow with the force of the sob that threatened to escape. But she kept it in, steeled herself, for her daughter.
“Sister Beatrice is here,” she started softly, her hand resting on Caro’s knee. This was the last time she’d get to touch her, the last time she’d ever get to hold her.
“I know,” Carol said cheerfully. “I saw her.”
“Well, she’s here to pick you up, honeybee. Only for a little while until mama can sort some things out,” Noelle said. The girl’s smile faltered, a frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows.
“But why can’t I stay with you?” She smiled brightly again as she added, “I can help you!”
Noelle closed her eyes against another surge, another back-breaking sob, another splintering piece of her heart.
“You can’t right now, honeybee. Mama needs to sort this out herself, you can’t help me with this one.”
“But I can still stay. I won’t be in the way, I promise,” Carol’s lip was starting to wobble. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she scooted closer. Noelle shook her head quickly,
“You’re never in the way, honeybee! You have to know that,” Noelle said. She pulled the girl closer, urging her to listen closely, “You are never in the way. And you are not leaving because I don’t want you here, baby. There are just some things Mama can’t control.”
The girl started crying now, making Noelle’s tears spill over once again. There were footsteps on the stairs, light ones, and heavier ones right after them. Noelle pulled the girl into a hug, one so tight she was scared she’d crush her to death. Carol squeezed her back even tighter, the girl clutching at her back.
“Please, mama,” Carol hiccupped. “I don’t want to go. I love you!”
Her daughter screamed the last part, and Noelle had to squeeze her eyes shut against the pain. Her body started shaking, wracked with sobs.
“I love you, baby,” Noelle sobbed, soothing the girl’s hair. “I love you so much. It’s only for a little while. And I need you to know it’s not because I don’t want you—I love you so much.”
The door creaked as it opened, revealing somber faced Nicholas, and Beatrice right beside him. Noelle started shaking her head, pleading with the woman with her eyes. But she persisted, grabbing a rucksack from the chair beside Carol’s bed, and started packing some of her clothes.
Carol started sobbing harder, her nails scratching Noelle’s back as she did. Nicholas sat beside them on the ground, pulling them into the V of his legs, and held them as all of them sobbed. His strength seeped into Noelle, but it was not enough to keep her heart from shattering completely. Carol would take its pieces with her, wherever she went in the world, and it was the thought of their reconnection later in life that held a small piece of Noelle alive.
Beatrice cleared her throat, “We have to go,” she added softly, having enough of a heart to not bombard this moment with her crassness. Carol screamed then, wailed like a baby, and Noelle felt herself slipping into herself, no longer aware of what was happening. Nicholas’ arms tightened around them, as if he could keep them together with strength alone. As if their despair had not taken the form of Sister Beatrice. Noelle shut her eyes again, gasping for air. She felt panic, and then numbness.